Saturday, December 6, 2008

Vanity

mobile phone, ripped it from the velcro wrapped around his calf. He pressed 1 - the number dialled automatically. It connected.'Yeah, it's me, Monsieur.' he paused. As a barrage of questions hit him, he held the phone further from his ear. 'Shut up,' he said finally. 'Shut the fuck up. We both know what this is worth. My mother died looking not a moment older than the day she married my father Bill and the secret lies in this town. My mother was beautiful ...' he hesitated. 'I don't care what you say. After everything she'd been through, it was amazing she didn't turn out like her sister: The voice on the other end of the line died down. 'You need me.' Joe said. 'That's why you dragged me home from Afghanistan. My mother knew how to keep herself beautiful - naturally.' The voice on the other end protested. 'Yeah, I know it will be hard to sell - it's black, it's sticky, it looks like tar - but what would you rather? To look likc Alice's sister? Yeah she was famous but ..' Joe took a deep cool breath of the night air. Nothing was how he remembered. Everything had changed.'My mother died beautiful. You need me because ...

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Welcome to Burning Lines - an online writing group. This is something of an experiment for December - a group of writers and artists who have met online creating an entirely new collaborative piece of fiction. If it goes well, we'll try a different theme/genre each month, selected by each of the group members in turn.

The rules are simple - there are no rules. It's for fun, and completely freeform. The contributors can upload fiction, illustrations, photos, music, video clips if they want to, anything that contributes to the story we are telling - and write two or two thousand words, drop by once or everyday. The contributors can dive into the story whenever they feel like it. If each post ends with a question or challenge - or mid sentence - so that the next person posting has something to work with that will help the story flow.